


The Proposition

by Xenobotanist



Series: You Came to Me [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friends to... Something else, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Elim Garak, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27592961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobotanist/pseuds/Xenobotanist
Summary: Julian breaks into Garak's quarters in the middle of the night and accuses the spy of making him lose sleep.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: You Came to Me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011447
Comments: 15
Kudos: 125





	The Proposition

**Author's Note:**

> A few of the lines may sound familiar, because I wanted to keep some of the elements and themes from the previous version, "Somnambulance." This is not a part two, but rather a different version of how Julian and Garak might have come together.

Garak woke with a start, instantly alert.

Something was wrong.

No, not wrong. But different.

He remained lying in bed, perfectly motionless. His senses had all sharpened, but none were screaming that there was danger, so he tried to calm himself and extend his awareness. While his hearing was nowhere as acute as many other humanoid races, his eyesight and smell were much more pronounced, and his Cardassian ridges had a few unique properties that could be utilized with the proper training.

Which he had rigorously undergone.

There was the subtlest shift of air currents, as if someone moved or breathed in the other room. 

He couldn’t see without lifting his head, but he was loathe to give away yet that he was awake and aware of an intruder. He kept his eyes shut, knowing that the whites would show in the darkness.

Next came smell. A whiff, a whisper, of something alien. At least, not Cardassian.

The air moved again, brushing over his face, his hands on top of the covers. Someone was moving closer.

Garak’s mind whirled. How could someone have gotten past his defenses, broken into his fortress? What were they doing, and why were they there?

And perhaps most disturbing of all: why wasn’t he on alert?

The answer came a moment later, as the scent of Starfleet soap, hair gel, and a familiar human musk gently wafted into his nostrils.

He opened his eyes. “Good evening to you, Doctor.”

If he startled the man, it didn’t show. Julian Bashir was standing in the doorway to his bedroom, wavering from one foot to the other. “Garak,” he returned in a closed, clipped tone.

Garak sat up to get a better view. The doctor was wearing dark pajamas made of something loose and flowing and would likely be slick to the touch. Silk maybe, or satin. “What brings you to my quarters this late at night?” he asked conversationally, as if they’d just met up in the replimat.

“I couldn’t sleep. Again.” He sounded aggrieved, frustrated. But underneath that was something firmer, warmer. Amusement?

“I see. And so you mistook my home for the infirmary in your sleep-deprived delirium. An understandable mistake, to be sure. Do you require assistance in finding your way back?”

Julian stepped into the room. “No. Because as a doctor, I believe in treating the cause rather than the symptoms. And _you,_ my dear Mr. Garak, are the cause.”

Taken aback, he paused. “Please explain.”

The long, lithe body strode over and seated itself on the end of the bed. “I think you know what I’m talking about.”

Garak’s already cool reptilian blood turned even colder. Surely the human wasn’t referring to what he thought. Why here, why now? And why didn’t he have a ready response? “I don’t think I do, Doctor. You’re going to have to be specific.”

Julian looked away and muttered something under his breath that might have been an expletive. When he turned back, the barest trace of light from the window outlined his features. Enough for Garak to see the pain and anger in the set of his mouth, the pleading in his eyes. It echoed in his own gut, and he suddenly realized he wasn’t ready for this. “I can’t do this any more, Garak. This back and forth banter, will he won’t he, subtext and subtlety. I need to know.”

Garak scooted back in the bed and placed a pillow behind himself to lean against the bulkhead and give himself time to think. “If you didn’t enjoy our debates and lunchtime rendezvous, all you had to do was say so.”

Julian scoffed. “Of course I enjoy them! And you know it! Don’t be obtuse.” He turned to the side, lifting one knee up on the blanket, pointed right at Garak as if in accusation. “What I want to know is: does it _mean_ anything? Is it all fun and games to you? A flirtation to while away your lonely hours? A challenge, to keep your skills sharp by yo-yoing me up and down on a string, always questioning your motives and half-truths? Or is it something more?”

He listened to and discarded each question. In the beginning, it had been a little of each. But that had been three, no four, years ago. It had since then grown into something stronger, deeper, and infinitely more dangerous. Something that he _thought_ he’d carefully danced around but had apparently failed miserably. He’d allowed Julian to get to know him, and the man had read him too well, understood what was being said behind the words, underneath the gestures. He’d simultaneously hoped he would be found out and dreaded it. And now he was being called out on it.

“Garak? Are you listening to me? Are you even awake?”

“Yes, yes I’m awake,” he responded automatically, his annoyance evident. They’d barely had a talk at all, and the emotions were already getting to him. “What do you mean by something more?” he stalled. “Do you still think I’m a spy, plying you for Federation secrets? Because if that’s the case, you’re sadly mistaken. I’ve found all I need and then some, without your loose tongue and lack of ability to obfuscate.” 

Julian bounded from the bed angrily to pace over to the closet and back. “Don’t you dare do that!” He shook a finger in Garak’s direction, and it took a good bit of self-control not to bite back at him. The gesture was nothing short of a rude challenge to his people, like slapping a Klingon with the back of your hand. “First of all, I _know_ you’re a spy. _Everyone_ knows. It’s not funny any more. And second of all, you _know_ what I mean about something more. Do you or don’t you have romantic feelings toward me?”

And there he was with his all-too-human directness, cutting right to the core of the matter, but in a confrontational and argumentative manner that was nothing short of a blatant invitation to a Cardassian. “Doctor… Julian. May I call you Julian?”

The human blew air out and practically stomped over to the bed. “I told you a long time ago that you may.”

“So you did. But seeing as I never used your name, I was unsure whether the offer had been withdrawn.” Garak stopped himself, aware that he was about to start babbling. 

“Why--why would I, oh never mind.”

“Julian. Wouldn’t daytime be a better time to discuss this, when we’re both awake and properly clothed?” He smoothed the blankets out absently, keeping his eyes averted.

“No, I think this is the perfect time. There’s no audience, no distractions, and no chance for you to weave some wild tale while I stuff my mouth. I’m here, you’re here, and I’m laying all the cards out on the table.”

Garak wished there _were_ a table between them, something to maintain an impersonal difference. But he was an interrogator and an intelligence agent, and he refused to let loose one iota of information without learning all he could first. “And there you’re wrong, Doctor. You have yet to lay a single card on the table for me to read, much less display my own. You play a poor game indeed, asking me to show my hand without a glimpse of yours.”

He expected another angry outburst, but instead received a brief flash of a smile and a “Scoot over, you.” Flabbergasted, he moved to the side. Julian climbed back up and crossed his legs, facing Garak. “It’s awfully dark in here, but I can see just enough to know that you’re cute when you’re vulnerable.” 

For once, Garak was struck speechless. How dare he imply-- 

“And you’re right. I’m asking you to tell me how you feel when I haven’t said a thing about my own feelings. I suppose I figured that you’d get the idea by my being here in the first place.” He ducked his hand and ran a hand through his hair. But when he set it down, it was on Garak’s thigh instead of his own. “I adore you. I’m fascinated and enthralled by you. You’re _exasperating_ and _baffling_ and an absolute mystery at times, but that’s all part of the charm. I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Garak’s insides churned at the thought of Julian _having_ him, but he ruthlessly quelled the thought. “You make me sound like a rather complex puzzle more than a man. Perhaps you should find a program in the holosuite to keep you occupied if that’s what you’re looking for.”

But once again, Julian refused to rise to the bait. He smiled in that maddeningly calm way of his. “You’re doing a poor job of throwing me off. You forget I’m a _doctor_. I can see that your pupils have grown, and I can hear you breathing faster. I bet,” and here he became extremely bold and moved his hand to Garak’s chest, “yes, your heart rate has sped up, too. So are you going to keep dancing around it, or are you going to give me an answer?”

At this, Garak found himself growing angry. “Who says I _owe_ you an answer, Doctor? Just because you come charging into my room claiming attraction and-- and _affection_ , you think I should just swoon and fall at your feet? Well, you’re sorely mistaken then, and you don’t know me _half_ as well as you think you do.”

Julian withdrew his hand, slowly. “I… I’m sorry, Garak. I just…” His shoulders slumped. “Some days I think we’re getting on really well and you look at me over lunch like you want to kiss me or, I don’t know, _devour_ me, and other days you’re all distant and civil and bent on duty and sacrifice. And when we argue, I can never tell if you’re really upset with me, or just putting me on, or flirting in the Cardassian way. I mean, you’re almost always smiling while you make your point, but you’d just as soon smile at a Klingon while you tell him his mother was a targ and that even _she_ was disappointed in him.”

Garak couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. It _did_ sound like something he would say. And with that tiny release valve opened, more emotion spilled out, and mirth filled its place. He began to laugh, and then to guffaw, bending over his own lap and holding his stomach. “Julian--” he tried to catch his breath. “Julian, my dear,” he laughed again. “You truly are a delight.” He wiped at the single tear that had escaped. “How _did_ you break into my quarters, anyway?”

The human huffed, but it was hard to tell whether it was in vexation or something else. “You’re changing the subject.”

He reigned himself in and lowered his voice. “Julian. You broke into my home, woke me up, and made a rather serious confession. Give me a minute to compose myself, won’t you?”

“Oh.” The human made to get up, but Garak reached out a hand to stop him. “Um, okay.”

The arm under the fabric (and yes, it _was_ satin) was amazingly warm, and he let go of it reluctantly. Imagine how warm the _rest_ of that body would be. Especially pressed up against his, or moaning under his, or… “You can stay,” he said more quietly still. 

A wary face turned to him. “I don’t know if this helps or… or makes things worse, but I’ve got to get it off my chest. Garak I… I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Nothing could have stunned him more. But his brain was working faster than his heart, and he quipped back with, “You _think?_ How can you not be sure?”

Julian’s eyebrows drew together. “Well, how would I know, unless you loved me back? You can _love_ someone, but to me, being in love _with_ someone would imply that it's something you do together.”

The jittery levity mellowed out into sobriety. 

Garak was glad he made the distinction. It did help him to look at the matter more clearly.

But even so, he chided himself for not seeing the signs, for not knowing this was coming. He was clearly going soft in his old age. In more ways than one. Even if some _parts_ of him seemed determined to prove otherwise.

As he mused, Julian brushed a hand over his shoulder. “Pardon me for just a second.” He rose from the bed and left the room, then returned with two mugs, one of which he passed over. “Tarkalean for me, red leaf for you.”

Garak accepted his without comment, and took a sip automatically. It was the perfect temperature. 

“So, here’s what I think. I think that you _do_ like me, but that you’re afraid to get involved. Maybe you’re afraid of getting hurt, or of your enemies finding out about me. Maybe you’re afraid of hurting _me_. Since you won’t tell me, I can only guess. But I have a proposition for you.”

Garak regarded him in silence, unsure of what to say.

Julian sat back down. “What if… what if we gave it a trial run? Let me love you. For a week, maybe two. No one needs to know. Nothing even needs to change. We can still have our lunch, and a walk around the promenade, and then go our separate ways. But I’ll be available, if you want to send me a message in the middle of my shift, or come over to my place for dinner, or for me to come right back here in the middle of the night. To your bed.” He licked his lips. “And the answer will be yes. To any of it. All of it.”

Normally, Garak preferred to reply right away, to keep people on their toes, not give them time to think. But this warranted a moment of consideration on his part. In the beginning, he’d entertained various fantasies of the doctor in his arms (in and out of the bed), and later on he’d considered the suggestion of a date or two, nothing serious. But what did he have to offer, beyond the lunches they already shared, the occasional sporting event they attended together? A stroll through the arboretum? A trip to the holosuite? It _had_ crossed his mind to surprise Julian by barging in on one of the programs he’d spent so much time with lately. 

But something else, something more frequent, more serious, more… intimate? He had hardly let his mind stray so far as to wonder about it. 

Unbidden, images flashed through his mind. Walking the station as they always did, but with hands joined. Appearing at Julian’s quarters with flowers and chocolates. Those soft, expressive hazel eyes fluttering closed as they leaned in for a kiss. 

A trial run?

That had never occurred to him. Leave it to the scientist to turn something romantic into something clinical, and leave it to _Julian_ to somehow still make it not only palatable but desirable.

Julian cleared his throat. “It seems like you’ve got some thinking to do. I’m sorry for barging in on you… Garak.” He set his mug of tea on the nightstand and moved to get up.

Once again, Garak put his hand on his arm, and once again, he said, “You can stay.”

The human settled back down, his eyes darting back and forth between Garak’s, searching for a glimpse of what it meant.

“I have decided to accept your proposal. Effective immediately.” The eyes widened in shock as he set his own drink aside. “Stay the night, my dear. We can work out the details over breakfast.”

“But- But Garak. If I stay _all_ night, _and_ for breakfast, won’t people, ah, notice? It wouldn’t be a secret.”

“I’m well aware of that. But if we’re going to conduct a trial, we might as well do it as thoroughly as possible. Messaging each other, gifts at work, dates, overnights. It would hardly do the situation justice to only give it half our effort.” He smiled coyly. “Besides, you’re absolutely horrible at hiding your feelings. I wouldn’t want to cause you any undue stress at trying to conceal our relationship or at accidentally revealing it.”

Julian smirked back. “Oh, is that the reason. Thank you for being so kind.” He tentatively placed his hand over Garak’s. “May I kiss you now?”

Something warm and absurdly fuzzy seemed to curl up in his chest. “I’m surprised you haven’t already.”

It was just as he’d pictured it, only darker, the green and brown flecked eyes hovering closer and then blinking shut in anticipation. He moved forward timidly, they both did, and it almost felt like their lips met by accident. But after the first gentle brush, lips so soft and supple and warm, a hitch of breath, and hand behind his head, carding into his hair as the palm pressed into his neck, Garak was lost. He knew he ought to wrest control, to take the dominant role as he had when they first met, but he felt like he was melting from the outside in, and light-headedness swirled all his thoughts away. He grasped at Julian’s shoulders like a man about to teeter off the edge of a cliff, and indeed he _was_ falling back, leaning into the pillows as his mouth opened of its own accord and was filled with the taste and texture of Julian’s tongue.

Drowning in sensation and heat, it was so tempting to surrender right then and there. To divest himself and his visitor, to open and be opened, to give and receive and let those hands… those hands… the one behind his head had worked its way down and was now massaging his neck ridge with unerring accuracy, and oh, he had to fall for a doctor, who of course would be able to discern every nerve cluster and flinch of his body, and there could be no more hiding, no more dissembling, no more secrets…

It was the moan that drew him back.

He wasn’t sure if it was Julian’s or his own, although the ache in his chest and throat hinted that the sound must have come from him.

Garak pushed gently at the human’s chest, nudging him back and to break away, although they both stole a couple more kisses as their eyes opened back up and met and held.

Julian sat up, breathing deeply and cheeks flushed.

Garak’s lips felt hot and swollen, and he wanted nothing more than to press them to other parts of that smooth, copper-skinned body. But this wasn’t a one-night stand, not some stranger who expected monetary compensation or would disappear in the morning. 

And if every touch was going to be like that, it may not be even a week-long association but something far longer and far, far more perilous.

Reasserting his composure and giving his body a stern talking-to, Garak drew in a deep breath. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet, my dear.” His voice was lower than normal, raspier, and nowhere near as commanding as he would have liked. 

It fooled no one, but Julian acquiesced. “Whatever you want, love.”

Garak’s hands knotted in the blankets, caught between a surge in his blood at the thought of ‘whatever he wanted’ and a twist in the vicinity of his heart at being referred to as someone’s ‘love.’

He used the motion to pull at the covers and draw Julian’s attention there. “Come to bed, Julian,” he suggested huskily. “No more of… what just transpired, not for now. I meant it when I said we can work out the details over breakfast. But we can at least share our warmth, and-” he almost quoted a poem, one that ended with “and learn the curves of each other’s bodies in the cover of night,” but realized that might sound too much like the opposite of what he meant. Instead, he finished with, “And sleep in each other’s presence.”

Julian’s eyes shined back at him, the corners of his mouth tilted up ever so slightly, as if he could read Garak’s thoughts, as if he were just as lost and not a whit perturbed at the discovery. “That sounds lovely, Mr. Garak.”

He worked his way under the blankets and they shuffled about, rearranging in a bed not meant for two bodies. 

Garak ended up on his back, with Julian half splayed over him, an arm across Garak’s chest, a leg draped around his, face tucked into the crook of his neck. A firm, plump bulge pressed into his hip, making him momentarily reevaluate his decision. But it softened and faded as they relaxed into each other, and Julian kissed him gently once, twice, on the shoulder. “G’night, Garak,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Julian… you can call me Elim.”

There was a soft hum back and the brush of a thumb over his shoulder.

Garak lay there, wide awake and motionless, nerves on edge and blood humming, and waited for morning.


End file.
